06-30-2021, 04:53 PM
Curiousity.
That's the one he feels most often, pressing into his heart and his head when they come too close, and if he were someone else it might bother him more, but Enoch thinks they are right to be curious about him. They are right to wonder about the curl of his tail and although he's never felt it, he's sure they're jealous, too.
Even before she speaks, he feels her, and he feels the note of regret, too, though without any way to know its source, he can only assume that she mourns her unfortunate lack of legs. He returns her smile with one of his own, those fascinating antennae whisking back in a sweeping motion. He cannot quite catch the emotion beneath her words, but he distrusts her immediately.
He likes her immediately, too.
"You know," he says, copying the curious tilt of her pretty head, "I'm constantly amazed you four-leggers can stand, let alone walk. It's really more of a controlled fall for you, isn't it?"
He laughs and then six legs lift him from his sandy bed, carrying the young stallion closer the glowing chestnut with his customary confidence. His gait is smooth and rolling, effortless, but he leaves a respectful distance between them, bending his elegant neck so the difference in their heights is less obvious.
"The Dame is very busy, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I took a message."
That's the one he feels most often, pressing into his heart and his head when they come too close, and if he were someone else it might bother him more, but Enoch thinks they are right to be curious about him. They are right to wonder about the curl of his tail and although he's never felt it, he's sure they're jealous, too.
Even before she speaks, he feels her, and he feels the note of regret, too, though without any way to know its source, he can only assume that she mourns her unfortunate lack of legs. He returns her smile with one of his own, those fascinating antennae whisking back in a sweeping motion. He cannot quite catch the emotion beneath her words, but he distrusts her immediately.
He likes her immediately, too.
"You know," he says, copying the curious tilt of her pretty head, "I'm constantly amazed you four-leggers can stand, let alone walk. It's really more of a controlled fall for you, isn't it?"
He laughs and then six legs lift him from his sandy bed, carrying the young stallion closer the glowing chestnut with his customary confidence. His gait is smooth and rolling, effortless, but he leaves a respectful distance between them, bending his elegant neck so the difference in their heights is less obvious.
"The Dame is very busy, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I took a message."
@Aela